by Julia London
“So?” Bonner said with the sensitivity of a bull. “That’s not what you are making the bucks to write and perform. Think pop, Audrey.”
“I do think pop, Lucas, but I like to write other stuff, too, and—”
“Why waste your time?” Bonner interjected as he turned back to the mail. “We’ve got enough on our plate without you trying to add any more to it.”
He focused on the mail again, effectively dismissing Audrey. Her neck turned redder, and she glanced at the group at the table—who had stopped reading the magazine and were watching what happened between Audrey and Lucas.
It infuriated Jack. He spoke without thinking. “Why not let her do what she wants? She’s the star—she obviously knows what she is doing.”
He didn’t know who looked more surprised by his question, Bonner or Audrey, but they both looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Apparently, he had. What did he know about it? The only thing he knew with any certainty was that Lucas Bonner made him want to punch a wall every time he was around him.
And Bonner was quick to give him a snide laugh. “You a music producer now, Tex?” he asked, then abruptly shot forward, his arms on his knees, his gaze intent on Jack. “What the hell do you know about Audrey’s music?”
“Lucas—”
Bonner threw a hand up to cut Audrey off before she could stop him. “No, I’d really like to hear what this guy has to say about your career, Audrey. Maybe he’s got some profound insight I need to hear.”
“Jesus, Lucas,” Audrey moaned.
Jack chuckled low in his chest, then slowly sat up, braced his arms against his knees just like Lucas, and leaned forward, so that their faces were just inches from each other. “I don’t have any profound insights for you, Luke. Just a piece of friendly advice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. My advice is to get off her back. Audrey is the reason you’re riding a big fancy tour bus. Not the other way around.”
Lucas blinked, and somewhere, in the peanut gallery, someone sucked in their breath. But from the corner of his eye, Jack saw Audrey grin. Grin.
“You sonuvabitch,” Bonner growled. “If you think I can’t break that contract and kick you off this tour—”
“Go ahead,” Jack said cheerfully. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
“You motherf—”
“Lucas!” Audrey exclaimed frantically. “Ohmigod, just let it go.” She put her guitar aside. “It’s okay. I don’t want to write anything right now. I want to go shopping.”
That statement made Lucas forget Jack for the moment. “Shopping?” he echoed incredulously. “We’re on a bus, baby. How are you going to shop?”
“She means on-line,” Courtney said.
“No, I mean in Cleveland,” Audrey said emphatically. “I want some new red heels. The ones I’ve been wearing on stage are killing my feet.”
Lucas snorted, fading back into his seat. “You can’t go shopping.”
“Why not? We’ve got time.”
“No, I don’t have time,” Lucas said. “Do you have any idea what sort of work I’ve got to do when we get there?”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Audrey said, trying very hard to be cheerful about it. “I was talking about me. Courtney can go with me if you’re worried about it.”
“Oh, right—Courtney is going to be a great help when you are recognized and mobbed. And besides, where are you going to shop? Some mall?”
“No, not a mall—I’m sure they have some shi-shi shopping in Cleveland. Courtney—”
“You are not going with Courtney,” Lucas snapped and suddenly stood up. “You’re not going.”
“Oh yes, I am,” she said firmly.
“God, Audrey, why do you make me crazy with this shit?” Lucas groused. “Do you really need to go shopping?”
“I don’t need to, Lucas,” Audrey said, gaining her feet. “But I want to. And the last time I checked, I wasn’t shackled to this bus.”
“Fine,” he said with a loud sigh. “Go shopping. But take him with you,” he added, pointing at Jack.
“What? No way,” Jack said instantly. He had way too much to do, and besides that, he hated shopping. Despised it, abhorred it, loathed it.
“She can’t go by herself!” Bonner snapped. “Someone has to be with her and you’ve got enough men here you can spare a couple of hours to keep an eye on her. That’s what you agreed to, Price: personal security. I think that means you need to be where she is.”
“I don’t know if that’s really necessary,” Audrey argued, looking suddenly panicked. “Courtney can—”
“For the last time, Courtney can’t.”
“Hey!” Courtney said, pouting.
“No, Courtney,” Bonner said, and strode angrily to the back of the bus in six steps.
Audrey watched him go, smoothing the palms of her hands on her bare legs.
“I don’t know why he thinks I’m such a bad choice,” Courtney pouted.
That seemed to snap Audrey out of it; she looked around like she was seeking an escape, and seeing none, she picked up her guitar and walked solemnly to the back of the bus, disappearing into the back bedroom.
Jack idly wondered how many times she had chased after that asshole. However many times it had been, it had been that number too many. He sighed, propped his feet up on the swivel chair Bonner had vacated, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t going shopping with anyone.
Seven weeks.
Eleven
Of course they had a huge argument inside the bedroom—or rather, Lucas had one. While he accused her of trying to sabotage her career, Andrey couldn’t think. She could imagine a group of people on the other side of that flimsy door, ears pressed to the faux wood.
It seemed Lucas was furious about everything, but mainly the song she was writing. “You promised me you would focus on more pop songs for the time being.”
“I never agreed to anything like that!” Audrey argued. “Why would I agree to stifle the only side of me that seems real anymore?”
“Oh for God’s sake, Audrey!” he said churlishly, “You’re real. But right now, we’re on a different journey than the one you’ve been on all these years.” When Audrey frowned, he took her face between his hands. “Baby, when we get to where we’re going, you can write all the ballads and love songs and alternative tunes you want. But right now, I need you to focus. Do you know how huge you are? Do you know your new album is number two this week on the charts? Do you know that we have another sold-out performance tomorrow night? It’s not your ballads that are selling, it’s your pop.”
“Yes, of course I know that, Lucas,” Audrey said, pulling his hands from her face in frustration. “But I also know that I have to collaborate with another songwriter out of Austin, or you, on every single pop song I write because I just don’t have that in my soul like—”
“Dammit, don’t ever say that out loud!” he chastised her. “Do you want all those kids that come to see your show to believe that you don’t have in your soul what you are putting into theirs?”
She was sick of listening to Lucas, sick of doing what he thought they ought to do. She understood his vision, understood the reasoning behind it—but sometimes she felt like he was making her climb a huge mountain. She could see the top of the mountain but could not seem to get there.
And all this talk about souls just made her feel like an even bigger gimmick. Unfortunately, there was no way out. Not at the moment, anyway, with only three cities of a twenty-city tour under her belt.
As Lucas lectured her, Audrey was even more determined to go shopping. She needed some space from the tour and, more importantly, from him.
As tense as it was between them—which, Audrey thought dolefully, was more the norm than the exception these days—it seemed forever before they reached the Ritz Carlton in Cleveland, where they would get a night in a real bed before they were on the road again.
There was
a crowd of curious onlookers as they disembarked, but three men who Audrey recognized as being with the security team were waiting outside the bus for her and surrounded her as she stepped out, moving with her as she walked into the hotel. Someone in the crowd shouted Audrey! and she waved blindly as they hustled her inside, straight to the elevator, and up to her room.
An hour later, after she’d showered and put on a little makeup, and Lucas had gone off to make some calls, Audrey listened to Courtney and Lucy chat about their sex lives—Courtney doing most of the talking—as she tried to plot her escape.
“My fantasy,” Lucy was saying, “is to be taken as a sex slave to a pirate or something. You know, the kind who ties you to a bed and then has his way with you.”
She and Courtney giggled. “I love that idea,” Courtney said. “But I’d have more than one.”
“More than one what?”
Courtney shrugged. “Slave or pirate. I’m not picky.” Lucy howled at that.
“What about you, Audrey?” Courtney asked, eyeing her closely. “Do you have any sexual fantasies?”
She instantly thought about Jack tying her to a bed and having his way with her. “I don’t know,” she said quickly. “Courtney, please call Jack and tell him I’m ready to go shopping.”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to go,” Courtney said, exchanging a look with Lucy.
Audrey glared at her. “Just call him.”
“Okay, fine,” Courtney said. She picked up the phone and dialed, and Audrey heard the lilt in her voice when Jack answered. “Oh hey, Jack!” She told him that Audrey wanted to go shopping, then paused as Jack apparently said something. “But . . .” Courtney said, glancing at Audrey, her hand on her nape, “she wants to.”
He wasn’t backing out on her. She needed this. And if she allowed herself a moment to think, she might even admit she needed to see him. “Give me the phone,” she said sternly, putting out her hand. Courtney started to turn away, but Audrey made a grab for the phone, taking it while Courtney shouted, “Ouch!”
She turned her back on Courtney and Lucy. “Ah . . . Jack?”
“Yeah?”
His voice was so soft and deep that it knocked her a little off balance. “I, ah . . . I want to go shopping.” She closed her eyes. “I mean, I would like to go shopping.”
“So I heard.”
“So? Are you ready?”
“I’m sending one of my guys with you.”
Audrey’s heart skipped a beat. She tried to think of which guy and could only think of Tad. Ted. Tom, whatever. That wouldn’t work. That so would not work. She wanted Jack with irrational vigor.
“But you need to go,” she insisted as Courtney trotted around to stand in front of her, smirking. Audrey turned away again.
“It really doesn’t matter which of us goes, Audrey,” he said calmly. “Really, Bucky is better for you—he’s been a personal bodyguard.”
“A personal bodyguard,” she repeated as she racked her brain what to say. She felt like a fish out of water—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d asked someone to come with her and they had refused.
“I’ll send him up to your room right now. So, if that’s it, I’ll see you later, okay?” he said, and clicked off before she could respond.
She froze, acutely aware that Courtney was watching her. “Okay!” she said brightly, and smiled. “Just give me a couple of seconds.”
She clicked off and smiled at Courtney as she handed her the phone. “Take the night off. You, too, Lucy.”
“You’re kidding,” Courtney said skeptically.
“No, I’m not.” Audrey smiled and picked up her purse. Her heart was racing, much to her annoyance. What was it about Jack that made her so skittish? He was just her bodyguard. This wasn’t a date, this wasn’t anything but a trip to get some new red shoes. She was paying him to go with her. She was paying him so well, in fact, that she didn’t have a chance of earning the slightest profit on this tour—her business manager had told her that when Lucas had hired Thrillseekers Anonymous. He’d been fairly perturbed about it, actually.
So if she wasn’t going to make a profit because of Jack, the least he could do was accompany her to get some red shoes. It was like Lucas kept telling her: if she allowed it, everyone would walk all over her. She had to stand up for herself, demand what was hers.
She began to dig through her purse. “What room did you say he was in?” she asked Courtney.
“I didn’t,” Courtney answered coldly. “Isn’t he coming here to get you?”
“No,” Audrey said, still digging in her purse. “He’s not quite ready. So I’ll just go there. What room?”
Courtney’s eyes narrowed even more. “Six-fifteen,” she said. “It’s just down the hall—we’ve got the whole floor.”
“Great. Thanks,” Audrey said, and picked up Bruno, stuffed him into her Balencia bag, and slung it over her shoulder. With a little wave of her hand, she walked out, aware that Courtney and Lucy were staring at her.
At the door of 615, Audrey nervously adjusted the bag on her shoulder and bit her bottom lip. “Don’t be stupid,” she muttered, smiled at Bruno when he poked his head out of the bag, and forced herself to knock on the door.
But when Jack opened the door a moment later, it was not clear to her who was more surprised—Jack, because she had shown up in spite of his brush-off, or her, because the man was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and he looked . . . hot.
So hot that she felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old and weak at the knees.
Jack, on the other hand, looked completely composed—and annoyed. “Audrey,” he drawled in that wonderfully low voice, “do you speak English?”
That certainly snapped her out of any stupidly awkward feelings she was having. “Yes. Do you?”
“I think I was speaking English when I told you that I would send Bucky to take you shopping.”
“I don’t know Bucky,” she said irritably. Somewhere behind her, she heard a door open. The last thing she wanted was for someone on the tour to see her hovering around Jack’s room, and she suddenly moved forward, brushing past Jack—and making contact with bare, damp skin.
She dropped her bag on the end of his bed. Bruno hopped out and began to inspect the bedspread as Audrey faced Jack.
He was still standing at the open door, looking completely baffled. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “And please get that thing off my bed.”
“I am waiting for you. I want to go shopping. Down, Bruno.”
Bruno hopped to the floor.
“Audrey, I—”
“Do you think you could shut the door?” she asked, gesturing to the door. “I don’t think everyone needs to hear you try and weasel your way out of your job.”
He frowned, but let the door swing closed. He put his hands on a pair of trim hips. “I am not weaseling out of anything.” He nudged Bruno away from his foot.
“Look,” Audrey said, reverting to the person Lucas had taught her to be. “I want to go shopping. I am not asking you to carry my bags or try anything on, I just need someone to go with me, obviously, since some maniac wants me dead, and as I am paying you to protect me, it seems perfectly reasonable for you to accompany me. I expect you to accompany me. What’s so hard to understand?”
“What’s so hard to understand about Bucky? He’s part of the team.”
“Like I said, I don’t know Bucky.” She sat hard on the edge of Jack’s bed. “Unfortunately, I only know you.”
“But you would know Bucky if you allowed him to come along. He’s a great guy.”
“Don’t care,” she said stubbornly, and crossed her legs as she idly studied a nail. “Can you hurry it up? I need to make this quick.”
He sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go. But I’m making a couple of rules.”
She snorted.
“First,” he said, ignoring her snort, “If you want me to do something for you, ask me nicely. I do not respond well
to being ordered.”
“I didn’t—”
“And second,” he said, walking over to the bed where she was sitting to tower above her, “No kissing. Do not kiss me.”
Audrey’s heart instantly started pounding at just the suggestion of a kiss. “Don’t worry. I am so not going to kiss you,” she muttered.
“Good,” he said, and suddenly leaned over, caught her chin in his hand, and forced her to look up into his crystalline blue eyes. “Because if you kiss me again, I am going to lay you down wherever we are and fuck you like you need and want to be fucked.”
Audrey’s insides melted. She looked at his chest, his broad shoulders, the soft down that tapered to a line that disappeared into his towel. “What’s the matter, big guy,” she asked breathlessly. “Can’t control your urges?”
With a chuckle, he gazed at her mouth, and she felt dampness between her legs. “Not when I’m provoked and kissing a good-looking woman, no,” he said, and traced the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. Audrey melted a little more. But he let go, straightened up, and walked into the bathroom.
She released her breath and covered her face with her hands a moment. “Kiss you?” she called after him. “Are you insane? I told you, that was just stress or something. I am not going to kiss you!”
Either he didn’t hear her, or he didn’t deign to respond—she heard nothing but the sound of stuff being moved around. She leaned forward, bending at the waist, hoping to see inside the bathroom, but couldn’t.
She sat back up and picked absently at the spread as several confusing and uncharacteristic thoughts jumbled her mind. Bruno hopped up beside her and sat by her hand.
Just what was so bad about a stupid kiss, anyway? Okay, besides the obvious—she was the boss, he was the employee, she had a boyfriend, he had a . . . she didn’t know what he had and didn’t care. “No sir, you don’t have to worry about me,” she muttered, and leaned forward again, trying to see him in the reflection of the mirror.
